Going Alien
by pennytree
Summary: Episode Tag to Bloodline. Oliver has a few questions for Chloe.


Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville. No, really. I don't.

Summary: Episode tag to Bloodlines. Oliver has a few questions for Chloe.

**GOING ALIEN**

He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a familiar couch in a familiar room. A sense of déjà vu hit, but he knew this time a toxic flower wasn't to blame. Groaning as the grogginess cleared from his head, he heard hushed voices nearby. Then a familiar _swoooosh_ that signaled the hasty departure of a Kryptonian. Because he was pretty damn sure it wasn't Bart.

Chloe rushed into the room, coming close to put an arm on his shoulder. "Ollie, are you…?"

"Y'know, it's not every day I get tossed out on my ass by a tiny blonde."

"I told you to back away."

"Yeah, well, you know how that goes." He finally looked up, saw the unspoken apology in her face, and shook his head. "So was that our resident alien I heard running out?"

Chloe hesitated. "That was Kara."

He frowned. "Kara."

"The flying cousin, remember?"

"Oh, right, right. Getting hard to keep track of Clark's family tree."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Preaching to the choir over here." She gave him a small smile as he stood. "She and Clark are out dealing with Lo-bot. I guess we can call it a night."

"But I was just warming up with that nap," he joked. "Wait—why was his cousin in the Phantom Zone?"

Chloe bit her lip.

"Okay. How 'bout you save that one for another day. Because here's the real story I'd like to get the scoop on right now: what happened to you?"

"I don't have—"

"Make the time. For your boss."

She arched a brow, her smile sardonic.

He sighed. "For your friend?"

A small war played out in the depths of her eyes. Chloe Sullivan was everyone's truthkeeper, had been for as long as he'd known her. How much more was it to ask her to divulge some of her own secrets?

"Chloe, look, I'm not asking for a life story. Give me the abridged version of how…" He trailed off as he gestured to her hands and eyes. She started walking away, but he followed, back to the small table where she started casing up the alien equipment. "Just give me something, okay? I went out on a limb for you tonight."

"For Clark," she reminded him.

"No, for _you_. Clark's a big boy. He can handle himself."

"Well, I'm not a little girl, Oliver."

"Never said you were." But just right then, he had to clamp down a ridiculous urge to grab her shoulders and shake the story out of her.

"What's it going to take?" Chloe muttered, rolling her eyes. "Just because I don't wear a costume like the rest of you go-getters, doesn't mean I'm not entitled to pursue my own extracurricular activities."

"Extraterrestrial, more like."

"All right, this third degree? It's getting tired."

They faced off across the table, the first time he could remember truly being on the receiving end of Chloe's baleful glare. It was definitely their most heated discussion by far. Respect and trust had long been established between them. Mutual admiration, even. Out of everyone, they were the only two who dove into the business of heroics with nothing more than human effort. Up until that night.

"I think I've earned a few worry rights, Chloe," he countered. "Or should this be coming only from Clark?"

"I've already heard from that particular peanut gallery, thanks."

So Clark _did_ know, and had just conveniently failed to bring up this recent improvement in his best friend's repertoire. Not that Oliver needed or wanted updates on every detail of life in Kansas, but when it came to the adventures of a certain copy boy and an ex-journalist, being out of the loop could be hazardous.

"C'mon, Ollie, have I really given either of you reason for concern? It's duly noted and appreciated, but also totally blown out of proportion, don't you think?"

He scoffed at that, brows lifted. "So Clark and I—we're just being overdramatic, is that it?" He paused. "Yeah, okay, Clark maybe. Every once in a while. But me?"

"If the leather costume fits."

"So how _should_ I be reacting to being thrown across the room like a raggedy Andy doll? To your cosmically expanded hacking?"

"The show of force was a little unexpected, I admit. And I'm sorry for any bruises. But it worked out, right?"

She clicked the case shut decisively, picked it up and carried it to the computer room. He watched as she stashed another of Clark's otherworldly mementos into a secret compartment hidden behind a panel. A box already rested there, metallic machinery sticking out that he recognized as cybernetic parts uninstalled from Victor's last emergency repair.

It was a timely reminder, for Oliver.

She secured the compartment shut. Clicking the locking mechanism into place, the panel slid back into its spot. When she turned around to face him, he looked back at her steadily from his perch against the table.

"I appreciate adaptability in a person," he said, his tone light. "But you take it to new levels, you know?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" she asked, walking up to him with her customary smile in place as she grabbed her bag. "Because that almost made me blush."

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, all right?" He took their jackets off the table and offered hers out. "I'm officially backing off for now."

She searched his face, then gingerly felt around his head. "Sure you don't have a concussion?"

"Sure you want to push it with me?"

She chuckled and shook her head no, pulling on her coat as they walked out. As she locked the doors, he studied her again. Not a trace of eerie white in her hazel eyes, no sign indicating she had any metahuman strength in her petite form.

"Just to put it out there, Chloe?"

She raised her gaze to his.

"You don't need to go alien to keep up with anyone. Some of us like you just the way you are."

This time she did blush. He bit down on a grin. If this was any other girl, he'd have been tempted to turn up the charm, coax her to spill all. But no, this was Chloe. None of his usual tricks applied. And experience as both Green Arrow and CEO of Queen Industries had taught Oliver a couple of things about picking his battles. Tonight, he wasn't going to push.

But he made a mental note to have a chat with Clark about this.


End file.
